Not Worthy
by Angeepang
Summary: “Well you know what? I’m damn sick of using these blasted keys!” he said throwing them down on the table. “From now on I floo in or Apparate, you hear me?” He knew that was below the belt when Hermione grabbed her jacket and stormed through the room.


**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's world, not mine

* * *

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If you asked them when it started, they'd each give you a different version.

He'd tell you that the sexual tension had been building up since they were children. He loved to regale everyone with the story of how she'd lost control that day in their third year and couldn't keep her hands off of him. Though he always left out the part about her hands actually connecting with his face resulting in a loud smack.

If you asked _her_,she would tell you that he had been pining after her for years--all the attention when he had teased her mercilessly. It was like her mother always said; _the boy who teases you the most secretly has a crush on you_. When her mother told her long ago that this boy probably had feelings for her, she simply laughed. It was only years later that she realized her mothers intuition was spot on.

* * *

It was all perfectly lovely at first. He had actually courted her. It was really sweet. He'd send her flowers to her office at the Ministry. They'd have lunch dates in the café down the street and take walks in the park weekends.

She made him work for it; and that's why she was different. She didn't care how much money or power he had (after he got is pardon from the Ministry of course). She couldn't care less about his status and reputation (once he had settled all of his affairs after the War for goodness sake).

They had gotten to know each other finally; _really _know each other. One night as they sat outside under the stars, she had actually told him that when she was little she wanted to be a prima ballerina but lacked the grace necessary to be such a dancer. He laughed and told her that when he was little he wanted to drive the Knight Bus, but his father shot that dream down rather quickly because it was "far too common a job for a Malfoy!"

* * *

After a while they became mostly comfortable around each other. Mostly comfortable, of course, meant that point in the relationship where they woke up early in the morning to brush their teeth before the other would wake up so, so as to be fresh for that good morning kiss.

They usually spent their time together in her flat, because his place was too "ostentatious" for her taste. He knew in reality that it was because she didn't approve of his employment of a house elf. He didn't mind so much, staying at her place. Though a few things about the female species continued to baffle him when he was there.

_Photographs_. They were all over the bloody place; photos of her and those two lunkheads she called best friend, photos of her and that beast of a cat, her and her family, and of course pictures of the two of them. It was like they were some kind of art piece or something. Why didn't she just put them in an album and be done with it?

And then there were all those scented candles. Her place never did smell the same way twice. One night it would smell like apples, the next it would smell like pumpkins. The whole food candle thing always seemed like a tease to him. The first time he stepped inside her flat with the odor of apples, he was expecting a pie, or a crumble, or maybe some hot cider. A candle? Was she serious? _Women_.

The most puzzling thing to Draco though, was her bathroom. She had lovely towels hanging up next to the washbowl. They were fluffy and soft and matched the décor perfectly, but Draco couldn't use them. No, _not those towels_. They were for company! Apparently he didn't count as company, and was instructed to dry his hands on the plain white towels instead. And if he dared to use the little "decorative soap" she had displayed, well, he'd never hear the end of it.

And the cabinet over the sink was a whole other story. He loved Hermione, make no mistake, but she was far from some glamour girl. When she dressed up, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Then again, she was equally beautiful when she was wearing one of his old Quidditch shirts with her hair up in a messy bun. He loved the fact that she was a no-fuss type of woman. If she wore mascara and some lip gloss, she had put a little more effort into her look for the day. And yet, her medicine cabinet was _bursting _with products!

The cabinet was lined with things like toothpaste and floss (her parents were dentists after all). Then there were the hair-care potions. Draco was convinced Hermione hadn't used more than half of them. She had creams for hands, body, and face. Why couldn't she just use one? And why did she need a huge bag of cotton balls? What did she use that bag of cotton balls for? He couldn't for the life of him figure it out. What purpose did those serve in Hermione's routine? Draco didn't know, but as long as he had a space (albeit, a _very small space_) for his toothbrush and razor (he rather enjoyed shaving the Muggle way actually), he wasn't going to complain.

They weren't the perfect couple. Far from it, to be perfectly honest. They fought all the time. Over the silliest things really. Secretly, they both loved it when they argued. It meant that the spark was still there.

* * *

He went to her flat that night with a sense of foreboding. Draco actually wasn't in the mood to see her. Truth be told, he was in a pretty bad mood. There was no question of his love for her. It was quite the opposite really. In their nearly three years together, not once had she brought up the "m" word.

Hermione loved Draco. She had told him before and he believed her whole-heartedly. Though, he was the one who said it first. It wasn't like they weren't committed to each other either, but there was something about the fact that Hermione never wanted to discuss the future when he brought it up. Something between them had been off lately; something that was missing maybe? He couldn't put his finger on it.

Draco unlocked the door to her flat; she hated when he'd Apparate in directly, and she also hated the mess he would create when he would floo in. They had a rather heated argument when he offered his house elf to come and keep the floo clean for her. In the end, she had given him a set of keys as a "compromise". The keys took him some getting used to, but he didn't seem to mind so much.

She wasn't home. He found a note on her kitchen table.

_Draco,_

_I'll be home a little late tonight. Wait for me._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Wait for her. He sighed and crumpled up the note before throwing it out. At least she had signed "love" and not something generic. Why was she going to be late tonight? When she came home late from work she never left a note. It wasn't like she'd stay late at the Ministry for hours on end, and if she did he always knew about in advance. So it couldn't have been work.

Maybe it was the two numskulls. They weren't thrilled with his and Hermione's relationship of course, but since Hermione was "perfectly capable of making her own decisions regardless of whether or not they approved," the matter was not open for discussion. And furthermore, Hermione made it clear that she and Draco did not need their "approval" thank you very much! It wasn't like Potter and Weasley were trying to break them up or anything, but they certainly felt that Hermione was too good for him. Of course she was too good for him, Draco _knew _that.

He waited for her. As the night waned on, Draco got angry and he couldn't really understand why. Perhaps it was his irrational fear that Hermione might wake up and realize what a horrible mistake the past three years had been , and she really didn't want to be with him anymore. It made sense the more he thought about it. She had been somewhat distant lately. Perhaps she had already found someone to replace him? Oh if it was the Weasel he'd, well, he wasn't _quite _sure but it wouldn't be good, he knew that much! _Of course_; how could he not see it before? Well, the one thing he did know, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

* * *

By the time she got home, Draco was livid. The mere fact that she just strolled in like nothing was about to happen drove him insane, but he remained calm on the outside. He was a Malfoy.

"Hi," she smiled as she laid a bag down on the table and set her coat on the back of a chair in the kitchen.

"Where've you been?" he asked her as she took a seat next to him at the table.

"I ran to see my parents after work and then I stopped at the--"

"Why did you go see your parents?"

"Oh, it was nothing," she brushed off.

"Well, it must have been _something_. You're two hours late."

"It was just a dental thing really," she said as she got up.

"A _dental _problem?" he asked with mistrust. She nodded. "So if I ring up your parents' office, everyone there will tell me that you were there these past two hours."

"Why would you feel the need to call and ask? And anyway, the office is closed now, Draco." He got up from his seat now.

"Oh, well. _Isn't that convenient_!" he drawled.

"What convenient?" she asked, raising her voice as well. "And why are you yelling at me?"

"Why are you yelling at me?!" he shouted.

"Because you started yelling first!"

"Don't think I don't know what you were really doing, Granger!" The use of her surname enraged her.

"Oh, it's back to Granger is it, _Malfoy_," she said, with emphasis on his name.

"So where were you really? Having some little rendezvous ? A tryst? A tête-à-tête?"

"What in the hell are you going on about! You think I was _cheating _on you?"

"Maybe," he said crossing his arms. He realized how immature he was acting then, but he wasn't about to back down now.

"You're insane you know that?" she yelled.

"Well you know what? I'm damn sick of using these blasted keys!" he said throwing them down on the table. "From now on I floo in or Apparate, you hear me?" He knew that was below the belt when Hermione grabbed her jacket and stormed through the room. He followed her to the front door.

"Wait, where are you going?!"

"I'm going for a walk to reevaluate this relationship. Be here when I get back, don't be here when I get back. It really doesn't matter." And with that she slammed the door and was gone.

Her words echoed in his mind. _Be here when I get back, don't be here when I get back. It really doesn't matter_. Oh, but it mattered and he knew it. So he sat down and waited for her. Hermione was the most truthful person he'd ever known. How could he possibly think she was cheating on him? _Bloody good move, Malfoy_!

He got up and began to wander around her flat until his eyes rested on the bag she had brought home. He emptied out its contents. There was only one thing in the bag -- razors. His razors. Hermione must have noticed he only had one left and picked them up for him. _He didn't deserve her_.

Draco went into the bathroom to put the razors away. When he opened the medicine cabinet, his heart sank. She had cleared away the top shelf for him. His lone razor and toothpaste sat alone on the barren shelf (his toothbrush remained in its' spot in the cup with hers though). He felt terrible. Draco sat on the edge of the bathtub with his head in his hands.

* * *

When Hermione came back (with a slight trepidation in her step), Draco was lying back on her couch with his hands behind his head. She dropped her keys and went and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said trying not to look her in the face, "I didn't mean it."

"Good." She inhaled deeply and laid down next to him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her. "You know," she said snuggling into his arms, "it's kind of nice how even after three years, you still get a little crazy and have your jealous moments." He let out a laugh and grabbed her hand. "I bought you razors."

"I know. Thank you for the shelf in the cabinet," he said, kissing her gently.

"It was time," she told him as she nuzzled into his neck.

* * *


End file.
